


cover of rain

by tattletold



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Claurenz Week (Fire Emblem), Fluff, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Naked Cuddling, Post-Coital, Post-Time Skip, Rain Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22368778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattletold/pseuds/tattletold
Summary: When taking camp, rain can pose a number of difficulties. There are the tents that leak, animals that require shelter, rough terrain, and so on.But it also does well to conceal the noises the thin canvas of Claude's tent cannot.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 138
Collections: Claurenz Week: Winter 2020





	cover of rain

**Author's Note:**

> day 2 of claurenz week, this one's only one day late!!! and i'm much happier with this one lol

The canvas of their tents is thin. Between battles, there is little their army can do for travel besides set up camp at predetermined locations, given it is far too much to ask of their soldiers to march through the night. Their camps are bare boned, the simplest of necessities to be fulfilled before the march back to Garreg Mach or prepare for battle the next day. Claude justifies it with the fact they don’t set out very often, and he hopes for the war to end before better facilities are necessary.

Even so, Claude has already gotten quite used to what poor equipment they have now. Claude makes a routine out of their stops, knowing he’ll have to search for natural herbs in the woodlands if he wants a good meal that night, or setting up extra support beams in his tent if the night is going to be windy. 

With rain comes another checklist. He has to borrow a pan from the cooks to position beneath a hole in the top to control the leak, and Barbarossa has to sleep nearer to his tent than usual with the threat of thunder enough to frighten the poor wyvern. He also has to see to the same concerns with every other member of their army, making sure everything is accounted for and nothing will hinder their march tomorrow.

But with the rain comes good things, too. Like the cover of sound, helping prevent what noise the thin fabric of their tents can’t conceal.

An exhausted sigh falls from Lorenz’s mouth as he finally catches his breath, his shoulders unrolling with the tension orgasm brings. Claude helps him come down from his high with a strong hand holding his hip, the other coming up behind him to rub his back comfortingly. He unwinds, slowly, and it isn’t until his back slumps and his eyes open does Claude know he’s returned to earth.

“Hey,” Claude whispers, as if Lorenz really had just arrived.

It’s a silly thing to say, with Claude’s softening dick still inside of him, but Lorenz manages a small smile that positively reeks of endearment. He drapes his arms over Claude’s shoulders, looking down at him. “Good evening.”

“Do you come here often?”

Lorenz shrugs. “Weather permitting.”

Claude laughs, pulling Lorenz in until they’re pressed chest to chest, his arms looped around his waist. It’s Claude’s turn to sigh this time and he breathes it into the crook of Lorenz’s neck just to watch his skin prickle up in goosebumps. It’s worth it, just to keep track of and note the moment it smooths back out. So far Claude’s hypothesis has strayed from the temperature itself and more his own movements--things like rubbing his back, his fingers through Lorenz’s hair, or a kiss to his cheek have all proved rather effective at returning his skin to normal.

“Stop thinking,” Lorenz says after a few silent moments, tightening his arms around Claude’s shoulders.

“I’m thinking about you.”

“Especially if you are thinking of me.”

He pulls away, remaining close as his hands slide to Claude’s shoulders, just pushing him back enough that Lorenz can lean down and press their foreheads together instead. There’s that sweet, so rare flush across his high cheekbones, made unusual by the fact Lorenz does nothing to hide it. He looks down at Claude with open eyes and a smile that somehow remains haughty in its genuity. Claude nudges his nose against the side of Lorenz’s; he wouldn’t have it any other way.

After a breath, Lorenz finishes his statement. “Do not hide in your thoughts when we are together like this. It… is the one place I cannot follow you.”

Claude hums against him, nuzzling their noses together in earnest, now. “I’m here, I promise. Sometimes you’re just so lovely my mind is snuffed out and I have to take the time to relight it.”

“Do you need it lit right now?” Lorenz asks.

“My mind is my greatest weapon, you know.”

“I know,” Lorenz responds, and with his hands on Claude’s shoulders, gently pushes him back into the pillows atop his cot. “But I heard rumor…”

His hips lift, allowing Claude to slip out of him before he sits right back down on the prince’s lap, a coy little smile playing at his lips.

“That it will be storming all night.”

If Claude has learned anything in these romantic trysts he’s been blessed to experience, it’s how emboldened Lorenz becomes after just one roll in the hay (a metaphor he so  _ detests _ Claude using, and so he says it often). The cover of rain isn’t used for the sake of keeping their relationship a secret, not when it would be so impossible to hide with the fond looks they end up exchanging after banter instead of mean spirited quips.

In daylight, Lorenz seeks Claude out with clever notes and letters. He writes his love so much easier than he speaks it, as if it were a different language that he’s not yet fluent in by tongue.

Come nighttime, though, and Lorenz blossoms like a nocturnal flower spurred on not so much by the absence of sunlight as he is livened by the moon itself.

Thunder cracks, momentarily illuminating Lorenz’s form along with the shadows of the trees they’re camped under.

Claude’s hands rise up the curve of his hips, sliding along his sides that are slick with sweat until they curve around to cup his shoulder blades.

Their eyes meet in the middle, and Claude thinks Lorenz must be a fool, because his lips curl up in the same devious grin as Claude’s at the exact same time; Lorenz follows Claude into his thoughts every day.

It’s more often than Claude thought he would ever be comfortable with. He could think on it, analyze what it means in terms of their relationship, what else Claude should tell him and how their dynamic could change in the future--

But Lorenz’s lips are wet to the touch, and as they meet Claude’s, they extinguish any lasting embers of overthinking left in his head.

**Author's Note:**

> [@dreisang](https://twitter.com/dreisang)


End file.
